Royal Duties
by gleekymcgrey
Summary: Technically, Emma was a princess; whether she liked it or not. One way or another, she's going to have to come to terms with being royalty, its perks and consequences alike. Charming family fluffy feels. :)
1. Princess Emma Ruth

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

This is me trying to cope with the recent episodes. Admit it. We all need some fluff after all that twists!

Let me know what you think and we might just be coping with each other for a little longer. I just love writing these fluffs though I don't know if it's getting any readers or what.

**Let me know what you think?** I just might love you forever. Aaaaand, you'll definitely cheer a cramming student for tomorrow's long day.

Have fun! Chapter two is up for your entertainment.

* * *

"I'm just saying!" Henry pushes, and if it weren't for her son's irresistible charm, Emma could've already gone bonkers. "It's basic math, mom. You are a princess." He beamed, as if that were the most amazing thing in the world. In another perspective, Emma knew that it could be. _Princess_. Just like she had always dreamed as a kid. To think of it, grown up Emma was living three year old Emma's dreams. Her parents were the fair and just rulers of the land—Snow White and Prince Charming, a big bonus—and that made her a princess.

But of course, grown up Emma had to scoff at that. "Come on kid, where is this coming from, huh?"

"It just hit me." He squared his shoulders, and took a hearty sip of his blended Nutella.

"Well, you better hurry up. David's going to be here soon."

One more sip. "As you wish_, your highness_."

Emma tried to suppress a laugh and rolled her eyes. "Really, Henry?"

"Come on. Won't you play along?" Henry teased, and jumped off of his seat, knowing just what to do next. "Can you do something for me?"

"Oh, now what?" Emma crossed her arms around her waist, and watched as Henry reached out for the tiara that's been sitting on top of the drawer forever. She had laid eyes on it before, but had never given it much thought. One thing was for sure though; it hadn't been there when she and Snow were just roommates. Maybe she managed to snag it out of Gold's shop, or whatever. "Be careful with that, Henry. I'm thinking those diamonds are real."

"Oh trust me, they are real." Henry seconded, and handed his mom the tiara. "Just this once, please?"

"…and you'll stop all the princess talk?" Emma bargained; seemed legit for an eleven year old, though. Henry nodded, and she willingly took the headdress on her hand, and placed it on top of her unruly, blonde locks. That alone, won't pass for a princess, and _oh_…

All of a sudden, she imagined herself wearing a puffy ball gown, with a sapphire necklace around her neck. She imagined being in an enormous hall, dancing with a fine, and young man to the symphony of the violins. She imagined Snow White and Prince Charming proudly watching from their thrones, clasping hands at the sight of their daughter. _Their princess_.

Emma had been too indulged in her own thoughts, that she didn't hear the door open, and the not-too-soft conversation by her parents. She hadn't heard Henry's cheerful greeting, or even noticed that Snow was already sharing the mirror with her.

"It's heavier than it looks, isn't it?"—Emma jumped, in a snap of a finger, already aware of her surroundings. She didn't realize she was still wearing the tiara until she trailed her mother's gaze and found it adoring the headpiece.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to touch your stuffs and…"

"Don't be silly, Emma." Snow cut her midsentence, "Actually, I think it's about time you had that."

"You're kidding me, right?" Emma gasped in disbelief.

Snow looked over at David, who was busying himself with tonight's dinner—chicken in white sauce, courtesy of Prince Charming himself—who gave her a reassuring nod. Emma got a hold of the tiara and held it carefully in her hand as Snow led her to the drawer where it was placed. She opened the top-most door, and took out a gift box.

"Johanna, she gave it back to me." Snow had to hold back tears at the memory of Johanna's loss, and turned to smile at her daughter. Even through the sweet crack of a smile, Emma saw the slightest hint of pain in her mother's eyes. "She was my nanny growing up. I didn't even realize she was here in Storybrooke until my birthday, when she left this on our door."

"I didn't know you…" Emma interrupted, feeling the worst daughter in the world for not knowing these little things about her parents.

"It's not a problem, Emma. In fact I've never celebrated my birthdays since," she trailed off, the rush of memories suddenly too overwhelming. "My thirteenth; when my mother died."—_when Cora poisoned her_; for some reasons, she decided to leave that out.

Emma's face fell, so she decided to get to the cheerful part of the story. "Anyway, she gave this to me days before I turned thirteen. And when we found out we were about to start a family? Have you in our lives? I couldn't wait for the day when I can finally hand it over to my own daughter."

Snow took the tiara from Emma, and placed it gently on her daughter's crown for the second time today. But this time, Emma didn't feel alienated by its weight; if anything, she felt at home.

"It's a family heirloom now." Emma huffed out, surprised with herself for not flinching at her mother's touch as Snow ran her fingers through locks of blonde hair, smoothing out tangles. "Thank you."

Snow snorted, yet still managed to be graceful at that. "No need to thank me; it was yours to begin with," she held her daughter's hand, and squeezed it gently, "_Princess Emma Ruth_."—and led her back to the commotion in the kitchen.


	2. First Ball

"You know what I'll miss in this land?" Snow asked out of the blue, popping a popcorn in her mouth with a giggle. Emma, David and Henry turned to her, their attention withdrawn from the action-packed Bruce Willis movie. Emma had it coming, though. She knew the timid schoolteacher in her wouldn't sit through this movie, no matter how just as badass is Snow White as the hero in the film. "Halloween!"—she beamed, shifting in her spot on the couch.

Emma made a small grunt, and diverted her attention to the movie again.

"It's just that…" Snow started, "When we were cursed, I helped with Halloween stuff at school. Halloween's such a big thing for kids, right Henry?" she turned to her grandson, who was becoming just as interested as her. "Oh, I better start stacking up on candies!"

Emma chuckled; there's no way those candies will reach the trick-or-treaters. She and Henry might just gobble them all.

David smiled, adoring the spark in his wife's eyes.

What he'd pay to keep it there. "Now that you mentioned it, I think Ruby is planning some kind of a party on the 30th. Maybe we can pitch in, then?"

"Oh, no." Emma protested as a frown formed in her lips, and set her bowl on the center table. "Hell, no. I don't do parties—Hallow parties are the _weirdest_."

"Come on, mom." Henry gave her a glance, "It's going to be fun. You and I can dress as zombies like on television." He scooted closer to Emma, eyes pleading for affirmation. Emma almost dismissed her son's request, but not until she looked up, and saw the same expression written on her mother's face. Adorable is a thing in this family, but Emma was certain it skipped a generation.

Just as optimism and mushy did.

"Fine." She dropped, "Let's do this Halloween thing once and for all."

* * *

Emma woke up to the sound of shuffling in the living room. Just how long did her nap last?

Snow had gone to Ruby's to plan the details of their Halloween party. If it wasn't for the joy it brought to her mother's eyes, she would have attested to the whole idea. She promised her folks she'd take care of dinner—_uh oh_. Uh oh, it was five minutes past eight. Emma didn't know how exhausted she had been, but a break-in at Gold's house and a kitten who managed to climb on the farthest branch of an apple tree, and whose owner she couldn't resist really got the best of her.

Emma got on her feet and went downstairs, where a bowl of crab and corn soup sat waiting for her. She looked around, surprised to see a heap of old age clothing scattered on the living area. "What's all this?" she asked groggily.

Snow looked up, a smile crawling on her face at the sight of Emma. "Hey you. Why don't you eat your dinner first? David and Henry will be out for some time. Your father's helping him with his costume."

She smiled, a picture of her dad with Henry painting in her mind. Henry's much loved, and it will stay that way for as long as any of the three of them lived. But she still had one tiny mishap to address.

"About Dinner," Emma put on an apologetic half-smile, hoping she got bits of the irresistible gene. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to conjure something. I really lost track of time."

"It's alright. Henry helped me out with the cooking and the cleaning."—she shrugged, and shooed Emma so she'd start paying attention to her food.

It didn't take long for Emma to finish the contents of her bowl, licking the spoon to the last drop of the creamy chowder. She gave her mother a quick glance—_what is she doing now?_ Snow sat on the floor, going through the contents of a large carton box and piled them on her bed, one puffy dress after another. Her interest piqued, she placed the dishes on the sink and went over to Snow.

"What will you be this year? Frankenstein's wife?" Emma asked, running a finger on a white, feathery gown's fabric. Then she remembered the real Frankenstein's relationship to Whale, and how cursed Storybrooke Mary Margaret and Whale had a thing. "Okay, maybe not. Considering…"

"Emma!" Snow hissed, holding a grunt.

Emma shook her head then crouched down next to the clothes. The attention to detail was astounding, even for someone who didn't care much about the intricate details on things like Emma. She held it up to her torso; Emma knew she'd seen this thing before.

A fashion show? Not possible.

On TV? Maybe.

Henry's Book? That's where!

It hadn't occurred to Emma that Snow had been watching until she met her gaze.

"This is…"

"The dress I wore to your father and I's wedding." Snow beamed, smiling at the memory of that day—_leaving out the wedding crasher who announced the curse on that joyous moment_. "Mr. Gold had it all the time. He had everything in his storage. _All these_."

Emma laid it back on the mattress. "It's beautiful, Mary Margaret."—that sounded wrong. Awfully off. For some reason, she wasn't at ease with the name anymore. "…you're going as yourself, is that it?"

Snow stood, ignoring the hesitance in Emma's voice. "Yes. In fact, we will all dress up for our real selves—you know, how we dressed back in the Enchanted Forest. Ruby thought it'd be great to have a glimpse of what we lost…" she trailed off, her voice low. "…in other words, we're having a ball."

Emma's jaw dropped. Oh hell no. Heck no. Nah-uh!

"A ball? A ball, ball? Like royals ball?"

"Ah, I think so." Snow smiled from ear to ear, "And I'm wearing this one." She pulled out a lavender gown from the box. It was simple, puffy like a pastry, encrusted with gems on the bust. Emma had underestimated the life they had back there. She thought all they did was fight, but seeing all these, she realized they lived a colourful life, too. Wonderful. Might she add, a fairy tale life.

* * *

Snow spent the next three hours stitching torn hems and gluing gems on an all-red ball gown with intricate embroidery on the waistline. She lay one look on it and she knew who to lend it to, but the recipient has yet to come home from the grocery. Henry was worked up with his knight costume, and David couldn't seem to get over the fact that the clothes he wore to when he proposed to Snow survived the curse, let alone ended up in Gold's stash. _That little imp._

"That is beautiful, Snow." David snuck behind her ear, his warm breath tickling the small hairs on the nape of her neck. "I don't remember that, though. You usually wore calm hues."

"Oh, I know." She agreed, holding up the gown before them. "I didn't get to where a lot of these."

"Such a shame." David teased, though there was always a hint of truth in his voice.

Snow sighed. They could go on and on, and on about all the things they didn't get to do—raising Emma on top of the list—but the years they lost weren't coming back, so she plastered a wide smile on her face. "Cheer up; you'll get to see your daughter on her first ball."

* * *

Gone was the boring town hall. At least for the night.

Over the past eighteen hours, Ruby—with the help of the loyal, hard-working dwarves and a certain adopted giant—transformed the building into a beautiful and grand ballroom. All of the four walls were covered in red curtains with golden frills, with elegant lights hanging on the corners, and a breath-taking chandelier—to which Gold willingly donated just to skip the event—draped on the center. A violin orchestra assembled on one side, and buffets of mouth-watering dishes, courtesy of Granny's, surrounded the whole area.

Regina, much to their appreciation, didn't wear the dark get-up she wore to Snow and Charming's wedding. Tonight, she was just Regina—with her baby blue gown and the soft curls of brown hair on her shoulders—and she was definitely one to warm up.

It was smaller than the ones they had back home, but it was definitely just as special—if not more.

The clock ticked 8:15, and the doors opened for the Royal Family.

Snow held back tears of joy and gratitude as she entered the hall, arm wrapped around her husband. Tonight, they were King and Queen. Oh, how she wished Emma was here for this. Though she kept on hoping her daughter would have the courage to step out of the apartment in her ball gown first.

"Wow, Gramps! I feel like a prince!" Henry beamed; and with his velvet cape, slacks and leather boots complimented him well.

The walked down the aisle the people made for them, leading to the make-shift thrones on the far-end of the room. Snow held a gasp to herself, "Ruby!"

"You deserve this, Snow. You both do." Ruby began, "We all do."

* * *

It's been a while since she wore heels. Okay, some of her boots had heels—so, she rephrased: _It's been a long time since I wore girly heels. Party heels. Princess heels_—as Henry teasingly called it. The yellow bug wasn't a good idea, but after saying no to carpooling with her parents, she didn't have much of a choice. Emma couldn't certainly have walked, either. But she made it to the town hall, and contemplated about her sheriff badge.

_Hmm, maybe not tonight._

With a bit of struggling—and an almost all-fours-splat on the concrete—she made it out of the small vehicle, dress and hairdo—thanks to Snow White, mother of all hairstyles of this kind—unharmed.

"Okay." She exhaled. How hard can it be? It's just a party.

She walked to the double doors; she heard the loud music from there. There were chanting, and singing, and thumping of feet. For all she knew, they could be performing some kind of ritual in there, and she won't have the slightest idea. Emma looked down on herself, an unnecessary thing to do, considering she had checked on her reflection too many times before even leaving for this ball.

With her red ball dress that came straight out of a fairy tale movie, hair braided into an intricate crown around her head, and fiery lips, it was no doubt Henry was right. Emma looked like a princess. For the first time in her life, she forgot about the little girl in the group home. At the same time, the reality of being Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter dawned on her like a big, fat truth that it is.

"Emma!"

She turned, meeting her gaze with Geppetto, running uphill with what looked like a pole in his hand to meet her. He walked just fine, what did he need a pole for?

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Emma asked.

"First of all, you look _beautiful_, my dear." He complimented with a humble voice followed by a courteous bow. "It's no wonder, considering your gene pool. Second, I've dedicated my services to being tonight's guard. It's the least I can do…"

"Oh, please." Emma stopped him, guilt written all over his face. "Come on, this isn't the Enchanted Forest. Ogres aren't coming to get us. Get inside! Do they know you're here?"

Geppetto shook his head with a small smile forming in his lips. After a stare-down contest with Emma, he finally gave in. "But by all means, _Princess Emma_. Let me open the doors for you."

Emma swallowed at the nickname, surprised at herself for not flinching or feeling the urge to puke at that anymore. Coming from her immediate family, it always felt like an attempt to annoy her, although she knew that wasn't the intent. But coming from a person outside of their dysfunctional circle? It was a different story. So she didn't argue.

Geppetto pushed open the big doors, and the scene that unfolded before Emma's eyes caught her off-guard. _So this is what royals do on their free time_. The older man stood beside her, clearing his throat before he clicked the floor with his pole.

_Oh, I've seen this on princess movies before. They do this to announce the arrival of guest-of-honours and the like. Wait, me?_

Emma thought life had left her when all eyes turned to her direction, followed by gasps and smiles and too much warmth she could ever handle. They looked at her in a way she had never been looked before—like she was the most popular girl in school awaiting the Prom Queen crown.

In a matter of seconds, the crowd parted, leaving a long aisle for Emma to walk on.

"This really happens?" Emma asked in awe.

Geppetto nodded as Archie took his place beside Emma. "Announcing: Princess Emma Ruth Swan."

"Archie!" she held the urge to nudge Archie on the rib. For some reason, all this felt like a sick joke. "What are you…"

"It's a thing we do. Especially to Royalties." Archie replied, and when he earned a glare from Emma, he smiled. "Royal Duties, Emma. Or might I say, Princess Emma?"

"I think I know someone whose ass needs to be kicked." Emma mumbled, trying to keep the whole stop-babying-me-and-treating-me-like-a-kid front, but deep inside, joy was certainly winning her over. She looked back to the wide aisle, spotting her parents and son on the end of it, seated in thrones. Emma didn't fail to miss the empty throne chair waiting just for her.

She started walking, and just as she did, the crowd starting paying their courtesy to their princess.

Emma could only smile and hope she won't trip and fall short on their expectations.

* * *

By the time his daughter had reached the end of her entrance, he was already in tears. David could only trust Emma's interest in Henry twirling for her to buy him time to wipe his face. He squeezed Snow's hand, and he knew she felt the same. He couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with Emma. She had no idea she had him wrapped around his fingers.

He'd certainly give the whole world for his little girl. But of course, she wasn't so little anymore. And it pained him when he realize this could have been her hundredth ball and not her first, if it wasn't for…well. Enough of that.

"Go on," Snow whispered to his ear as Emma diverted her gaze on them. "I know you've been waiting for this long before our daughter was even conceived." He met his wife's gaze, and marvelled at how similar she and Emma were.

_Someday, I'll dance with our daughter. Or teach our son how to win a girl through dancing_. His own words echoed in his mind. It was a wonder how Snow remembered little things like those.

He left his place at his throne, and walked towards Emma, whose eyes were just as teary as his. "That whole entrance thing was their idea. And the thrones, too."

Emma chuckled. "Well, as long as we know Regina's not here for a place in those."

"She's here with good tidings." David replied, "We're all off to a fresh start, aren't we?"

The crowd reassembled into the dance floor as the orchestra played their best tune. It was his cue. With a curtsy and a slight bow, he reached out his hand to Emma. "Can I have this dance?"

Emma's smile grew wider. She placed a hand on top of her father's, squeezing tight for much needed support. The whole thing was not only overwhelming, it was bound to be nerve-wrecking. But David squeezed back, and held her close when they were on the center of the room, a hand firmly but gently on her back. Snow was right. He had been waiting so long for this. Too long, perhaps.

"Hey Dav…" she paused, "Dad?"

David's heart skipped a beat, he could only answer with a soft whimper.

"Thank you."

_You never have to thank me for anything_.


	3. The Princess' Ink

I wrote this yesterday. And I'm glad I did because after that freaking finale, I became an emotional wrecking ball.

I'm planning on writing an all-angst fic. Because apparently, sadness is my forte.

Here's a little fluff!:)

* * *

The night was filled with dancing, laughter, and more dancing.

Emma wasn't just known as the town sheriff now, some people—Leroy, being the first—called her the resident Princess, a nickname she wasn't sure she could stand for long. After dancing with her father and the relentless twirls with Henry, she was flat out exhausted. So Emma watched from a distance as the crowd squeezed through the dance floor, nibbling on a macaroon from the centrepiece, careful not to drop crumbs on her dress.

Emma watched as her parents swayed in slow, lingering motions as they held each other. Oh, what a pair. She had long given up on love; it was something she was never so lucky about from the start. But at least some people are not as loveless as she was.

David twirled Snow in the air, catching her back when she came face to face with him again. A smile crept on his features, and Snow knew that smile. It was the smile reserved for her. He had a different, loving smile when he looked at his daughter, a proud grin when he pats Henry on the back, but this; this smile was exclusively for her.

"For a night we can pretend everything is as it seemed." She whispered, wrapping her arms around her prince's waist. "We may have missed a lot on Emma's life, but we got her first ball." She smirked, looking over her shoulder to check on her daughter.

"She's everything I've ever dreamed of." David whispered, following his queen's gaze. "It's such a shame we can't take any credit for everything that she is right now."

Snow's heart clenched. But as far as the pretending goes, she couldn't let herself be somber. This was supposed to be a joyous night, and she'd keep it that way. "We can take credit for her good looks, that's undebatable."

David let out a chuckle. Snow was right; if there was anything Emma owed them, it was her good looks, her father's tact, and her mother's irresistible charm.

"She doesn't look so happy, though." Snow commented, watching as Emma watched the people with a dry eye.

"Oh, Snow. She's just not used to this." He reassured her. "Go to her. Who better show Princess Emma the ropes of royalty than Queen Snow White herself?" he backed away and ended the dance with a polite curtsy and a wink.

Snow returned the gesture with a small nod, and a coy smile on her face, before walking over to her princess.

"The night's still young, princess."

Emma looked up, and the weight of the nickname sank in. "Please, we both know that's not…"

"But tonight, it is true." Snow grinned, cupping Emma's cheeks with both hands. "Have I told you what a beautiful princess you'd make? And so long as technicalities go, you're royalty, Emma."

Emma ducked her head slightly. "But David's a shepherd; what does that make me?"

"...a shepherd who was eventually made King. Still, Emma. A princess." Snow rebutted, releasing her hold on her daughter, and reached her arm out. "Come on, humour me. It's just for the night, you know."

Princess. Ha.

Double Ha!

Emma scoffed. Maybe it was the overwhelming attention from the whole town, not to mention the whole new level of admiration or just the exhaustion that made her shook her head. The hurt that crossed her mother's features didn't go unnoticed. Clouded by feelings of her own, she got to her feet, "Actually, maybe I'll call it a day. I have work tomorrow and..."

Snow forced a smile, taking a step back from Emma. "Of course."

Emma turned to leave; but Snow reached out for her daughter's hand—one last time. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Snow watched as Emma hurried to the doors. Some of the guests noticed her exit, but eventually returned to their merry dancing and chatting. She returned to her husband, on his knees and leaning against a pillar facing three small kids in princess gowns, with plastic tiaras on their heads.

"…and the three beautiful princesses worked together to bring happiness back to the kingdom."—she caught the end of his story, keeping a safe distance.

The older girls cooed in awe. The youngest, around three to four, with curly blond hair bobbing up and down her shoulder, and round, green eyes filled to the brim with innocence looked up at David questioningly. "But…what happened to the other princess? The one who was sent away to a faraway land?"

"Oh, that princess." His lips broke into a soft, sad smile. "Need not worry about that one; she's special. You see, she was born to be a Savior. Do you want to know what happened to the other princess?"

"Yes!" The three girls said in glee. Snow watched intently as she braced herself for yet another wave of fresh tears and salting of wounds.

David cleared her throat. "That, my dear ladies, is for another time."

"…but she's okay?" the smallest asked.

He grinned, brushed a finger on her cheeks and nodded. "She will be."

"Well, I'm starved." The other girl exclaimed. "Thanks for the story, Mister Nolan."

David watched as the small girl dragged her small feet to the direction of the buffet. He imagined Emma at that age, thought of the bedtime stories he could have told her, the things they'd have done together, and he could only sigh.

He got to his feet, and searched the room.

Snow stepped into her husband's periphery, clasping his hand with hers. "Adorable little girls, aren't they?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Their parents are lucky to have them."

She nuzzled against his neck, breathing him in. They always thought they could do anything. They've accomplished so much in the past with their love and faith. They've conquered battles, sleeping curses and forgetting potions, they thought they could do it all. They've done all that—so much more than other people did in their lifetime—except one thing: raise their daughter.

"Where's Emma?" he asked, pulling away.

Snow sighed. "She just left. I wish I knew what upset her but…"

"I know…" David added.

"I just want to be there for her, David. But she's not letting me. She doesn't need her mother anymore."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Emma tried to convince herself that it was a terrible night.

That it didn't suit her.

That her heart didn't yearn for that life.

But she had more fun than she first thought, and her heart yearned for that life.

That's why she couldn't stand being called a princess.

She had never been royalty, and she was never cut out for that path. Her fate was sealed the moment she went through the portal.

Her princess contract ended then.

Above all, being called Princess reminded her of everything that she was meant to be, but was not. She was a bail bonds person for heaven's sake! Queens and Kings would not approve of the things she did in the past. As far as qualifications go, she wasn't cut out for it.

Emma made her way up to her bedroom she'll be occupying all by herself for tonight. Henry had promised Regina a sleepover, and she couldn't get in the way of that. Being alone was probably a good thing; she needed space. A whole lot of it. She wondered how her parents did it. Sure, they had thousands of balls back in the day, which probably explained their enthusiasm and energy.

She stopped in front of the mirror, and made one last look of herself.

Emma wondered what could have happened if the curse didn't hit. She wondered if she'd love the life royalty could offer. The questions that were impossible to answer lingered in her mind, pulling her back into that sinking feeling: loneliness. She could have been the small baby girl the kingdom celebrated, the toddler who ran around the castle walls, squealing as her father chased her, the teenager who snuck out of the castle at a late hour to meet a boy who made her heart beat for the first time, the broken-hearted young lass who turned to her mother for comfort.

She clenched her eyes close. She was better off not thinking about all that.

With a deep sigh, she decided to strip herself off of her ball gown.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Snow wrapped one arm around her husband's neck, holding on tightly as he carried her all the way up to their apartment. David kicked the door open—hoping he hadn't damaged it in some way—and gently placed his queen to her feet. Their eyes locked, and for a moment there were just the two of them in the world. It didn't take long before David closed the distance between him and Snow, cherishing the silence of the small flat, hearts fluttering.

Snow pulled away. "It's been a long time since you carried me."

"Twenty eight years too long, huh?"

"I guess."

David placed a hand on Snow's cheeks, his skin warming hers. He craned his neck to the direction of the staircase, soft light flooding out from his daughter's room. "I remembered when you told me about your first ball in your honor." He turned back to Snow, "You said it sucked the energy out of you. You were six years old, and you were expected to smile all night long, and you had no idea what was going on."

Snow chuckled at the memory.

Then she understood, and looked to the direction of Emma's room. Hesitance flashed on her face, and David was quick to brush it away.

"She maybe twenty eight years old, but this is her first ball, remember?" he said with a small smile on his face. "She needs you, Snow. She still needs a mother. And by all accounts, I know you've been waiting too long to do this."

"I've waited for this the moment I found out I was pregnant with Emma."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Emma heard heels clicking on the wooden floor. She'd been in this apartment and have known Mary Margaret long enough to know the sound of her footsteps, and how she momentarily pauses at the door before knocking. This time though, there weren't any soft taps on her door. It swung open at her mother's command, white, feathery dress peeking out from the crack.

"Hey."

Emma looked up, a small smile plastered on her face. "Had fun?"

"So much more if you hadn't gone home so early." Snow took a place on the foot of Emma's bed, and looked at the neatly folded ball gown on the small table. "I knew there was a reason why I never got to wear that one."

"I'm sorry?" Emma said in a small voice, clutching thick blankets to her chest.

She got up, picked up the garment from its place, and breathed from it. "…smells like home. I had more of these than I could ever count, and this was the last one to get out of our seamstress. I was going to wear it for when we show you off to the whole kingdom." She gave Emma a sideways glance.

"I thought you…"

"I never lost hope. That maybe Regina wouldn't enact the curse and we'll have our happy ending. I still hoped we'd get to raise you; amidst anticipating the dark curse." Snow sighed, and let go of the dress. She walked back to the bed, and this time sat beside her daughter. "It was nice to see you in it." She put one hand on Emma's, eyeing the small flower tattoo for the first time. Blood rushed to cheeks. How could she not notice this before?

Emma ducked her head, a chuckle escaping her mouth. "You're just saying that because you're my mother. Mothers say that kind of…"

"How long have you had this?" she asked, a finger tracing the ink on her daughter's wrist.

Emma looked up at Snow, and followed her gaze. "Oh this? Forever." She held up her wrist to her face. She didn't flinch when Snow rested her head on her shoulder, waiting to hear her out. "I had it on my fifteenth birthday, you know a gift for myself. I originally wanted my name written instead, but then this tattoo guy—who was weirder than the average tattoo guys—suggested this. He told me about how this five-petaled flower represents goodness, bravery, truth, love and the other thing he forgot."

"Sacrifice."

"What?" Emma craned her neck, eyes on Snow.

"The other petal means sacrifice." Snow smiled, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I don't know how fate did it, but that flower, Emma dear, is the crest on your father's armour. The crest on our kingdom's every soldier."

Emma gasped, "You're kidding…"

"We can pay Gold a visit sometime and see if he still had anything bearing that flower."

Emma's smile grew wider. Somehow, knowing the truth about her childish adventure healed a hole in her heart. It made her feel that her people, and most importantly her family, had been with her all along. "Wow, I never thought this little thing meant anything."

Snow ran a finger on Emma's face, and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "That little thing meant everything. It means that even worlds and curses apart, we still found each other."


End file.
